(not) a War Journal
I don’t have the habit of keeping a journal, but for the next week, I will make an exception. Cause I will be facing an experience that is going to be interesting, from the saying of some fellow journalists and the organizers: the Course for Journalists that cover conflict areas organized by the Romanian Minister of Defense.
Ponta, Nastase si Carlsberg
June 24, 2012
After the meeting from the MoD, where we got to know our colleagues and the trip to Focsani that went on without any notable events, we reached the military hotel that was to be our home for the next week. ‘Not three stars, not one either’, like our hosts told us, the place impressed me with the simplest gesture of all: a note from the staff with a welcome message that valued more than any chocolate that you usually get in the hotel rooms.
On the first evening, we had no organized program, so we could get to know each other. We ended up having ‘journalistic’ talks about Ponta and Nastase – although I have no idea how we got to talk about the two politicians -, about Carlsberg, Iraq, and Afghanistan, about heart palpitations that pass on their own and other strange medical conditions, about army hospital and endoscopies and other medical interventions.
„Write about it!”
June 25, 2012
Today was not the day with surprises, and, from what was announced, neither will be tomorrow. On Wednesday, we should expect all kinds of wonders; at least that’s how everyone around „threatens” us.
But until tomorrow or Wednesday, today we talked a lot and about a lot. We met the hosts, the 8th LAROM Brigade and the 282nd Mechanized Brigade; we learned about the conditions in the theatres of operations, about the risks and rules of protection against them, our relations with the soldiers there, first-aid measures, and the like.
Sometime during the breaks between classes, we talked about what we should write and what we shouldn’t, about the course, about the information received, about the thin line between „sensational”, trust and sources.
If there are more debates to be held on the latter, we all agreed on something: super, super good meatball soup! Extraordinary! And if I, who don’t eat soup, and especially dislike the meatballs one, said it was great… you can be sure it was. And that’s what I was told to write about.
Military equipment, the flag, and obstacles
June 26, 2012
I will be writing only a few words; the images will speak, in part, about yesterday. I say in part because in the most significant moments, I was separated from my camera.
On this day, we saw a lot of military equipment, and we got the chance to go inside them and have a closer look. We also went through the obstacle course the soldiers do. At least we tried because most of the time we had some serious help from the soldiers – big thanks to the soldiers who provided their hands and feet for us – so we can pass them. We ate snails and quails, we celebrated Flag Day, we marched through the woods, and one of us picked a tick, just because ‘it’s fashionable’.
Alarms, bunkers, kidnappings, rescue missions, and a changed world
The last days of the course were full of events but reduced in the possibilities of communicating information to the outside. And not because I didn’t have access to the internet, but simply because my laptop would have limited my mobility a bit.
June 27, 2012
We started the day by getting acquainted with the bulletproof vests (with plates), helmets, and our hosts, the soldiers of the 282nd Mechanized Infantry Brigade stationed in FOB Pegassus – for ordinary people, a military base built on the model of those from the theaters, where the Romanian soldiers train. However, until we received the equipment, with the appropriate lamentations related to the weight and the time we had to carry it – and none of us thought at the time that we would be missing it two days later – we also met the mascot of the base, a puppy who was always having a big fight with our pants and boots, a real ‘beast’ who later in the day got away with about four huge schnitzels.
We didn’t linger for long there because we went to see how well prepared we were and how well we will do on the front – a perfect opportunity to put into practice what was presented to us in theory in the first days of the course.
We saw more of the fighting technique that our troops typically use in theatres, we tested the gas masks and our ability to do different activities with the mask on, we went through the fire – including me, that I am not very fond of it – we saw how the soldiers blow up various things, to demonstrate to us the power of the explosive, and thus understanding why we have to follow the instructions of those we accompany in the field and making us think what „big ouch” we would get if we disregarded their advice.
Then we went to show off our mastery in shooting on the Media Shooting Cup – in which I did hit the target with just one bullet, so if there were a real person there, he would have got quite a startle. Before our competition, we got the opportunity to see the soldiers showing us what they can do with their weapons, giving us false hope that we could get closer to their performance.
Then was dinner time …. in an open tent, with a sunset that you see only in postcards, with white tablecloths and ‘the beast’ waging his tale from table to table and making sure we don’t eat too much.
June 28, 2012
Many people regretted this day; it was the day that changed us, that gave us the certainty that we want to go there, to be with the Romanian military in the missions abroad.
It started with a moment anticipated by us, although some were waiting for it a little earlier: the alarm – which arrived at about six o’clock, with flashbangs, gunshots, sirens and a „to the bunker” command screaming through the radio, a place we reached in less than a minute, fully dressed and with vest and helmet on, and with the camera in my case.
According to the scenario, from that moment on, we were embedded – we became journalists integrated into military teams, participating with them in day-to-day missions. As in the theater, it all started, for the military and journalists alike, with the words of encouragement of the psychologist and the short prayer of the military priest, accompanied by the sprinkling of holy water. After the distribution to the crews we were to accompany, we headed to the cars, where we got the chance to satisfy our curiosity about the Vamtacs that served as our means of transport.
Our mission, to patrol and engage with the local community leaders, who are in conflict for resources – according to the scenario – quickly turned into a rescue and recovery of the two fellow journalists abducted by the insurgents during an ambush of the convoy.
And, while our ‘intelligence’ analyzed the recording received from the kidnappers and gathered the necessary data, and the soldiers were preparing the mission, we ‘camouflaged’ ourselves to be as less visible as possible when we were to accompany the teams sent to rescue our colleagues. Although to be honest, we were just trying to get some really cool pictures to brag on social media. Then, properly equipped and trained, we boarded the boats that transported us to the place where our colleagues were being held and where, in just a few minutes and a few gunshots – and photo frames – the journalists got transformed from victims to stars, along with the soldiers of the 282nd Brigade who rescue them.
The trip back to the base was happy, full of analysis, interior and exterior, and questions about what each of us would have done in our colleagues’ shoes, what it is like to be kidnapped, and what we applied from the theoretical training.
June 29, 2012
It was the day when, for the first time, Bucharest seemed dull, deserted, and lifeless.
After days with the Romanian military, from sleeping in the tents – although we were spoiled, especially us ladies -, vest and helmet, the ones that seemed heavy two days ago and that we would have worn now with great pleasure, to the ceremonies and stories from the theaters of operations, to the friends with whom we connected in a few moments, and jokes of all kinds, after four days lived intensely in the Focsani Garrison, the daily life in the great City had lost all color.
For some of us, the only path to follow is the one that takes us with the Romanian Army soldiers in the theaters of operations around the world, and for those journalists who are thinking of following the same path, „The course for journalists who broadcast from conflict areas” is really the first step.
